


Take a Breath and Feel What Matters

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://octette.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://octette.livejournal.com/"><b>octette</b></a>: Mike/Courtney(William) post-TAI split</p>
    </blockquote>





	Take a Breath and Feel What Matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



> For [](http://octette.livejournal.com/profile)[**octette**](http://octette.livejournal.com/): Mike/Courtney(William) post-TAI split

  
She hates parties like this. Wannabe glam rock trying to be hardcore, beautiful people snorting lines in the bathroom like it’s the 80s, and required dress codes. She does have to admit that it’s at least an inventive theme. The pictures will be amazing under the dancing lights, guys in everything from gold lame to poofy prom dresses, some with hairy chests displayed proudly, others either shaved or incapable of growing chest hair. The women are less varied with most of them in tuxedos and ruffled shirts, though there are a few that put a little thought into it and have come dressed as lumberjacks complete with fake beards, in leisure suits, and there’s even one in plaid shorts, black socks, sandals, and a polo shirt with a PBR in her hand.

She had to abide by the rules to get the gig, so she’d dug through her drawers to find clothes Bill had either left behind or outgrown that she’d kept for reasons she doesn’t like to think about. At least not unless she’s alone in her bedroom.

The slacks are a little long, and loose in the crotch, and she keeps forgetting that the fly’s on the wrong side. She has the shirt sleeves rolled up since they hang down a little too far on her wrists, but the vest and suspenders fit perfectly. She’s even wearing a pair of briefs he left behind in the wash the last time he was in town, and the socks aren’t his, but they’re identical to the pair she bought him at Christmas.

“You look just like him. It’s kind of uncanny.”

She turns and her eyes widen. He’s the last person she expects to see, even though she knows that he’s friends with Jamie and Emma and Jared. “Mike.” He’s definitely not wearing a dress, though he does have a tiara on, which she supposes that, given who it is, is a huge concession to the party theme.

“It’s also good that I noticed it wasn’t, because you almost got punched.”

“What gave me away?”

“He’s always on the other side of the camera.” There’s a bitterness to his smile, and Courtney ducks her head in the face of it.

“So, I’m taking it that you guys haven’t kissed and made up?”

“No. Not so much.” He takes a drink from the glass in his hand. Courtney can’t help looking him over, because he looks good. Better than she remembers. Broad shoulders and tanned skin. The recurring urge she’s had to see him naked kicks her in the gut and she thinks about going down on him outside the Metro the first time they played there. He’d gone home with someone else that night, because he couldn’t go home with Bill’s sister, but she’d sucked him and tasted him, and he’d breathed her name. Fuck. The urge slides lower and she shifts, feeling the heat building. “You should take your pictures. Jared insists on a good product or he doesn’t pay. Which means you should take a lot of shots of him in his boa and whatever the fuck that is that he’s wearing.”

“Yeah.” She nods and manages a smile. “It was good to see you, Mike.”

“You too, Beckett.” He raises his drink in a toast and heads off into the party. She loses sight of him and makes herself focus on her job, getting picture after picture and trying to make sure none of them are tabloid fodder, which means she has to ignore the married couple in the corner, since they’re not married to each other, and she’s pretty sure that he doesn’t want his wife to see him with his hand in what looks like another guy’s pants. Or maybe she does. Courtney doesn’t judge anything. Her nipples are hard and her pussy is slick and wet just from wearing her brother’s clothes.

She does her required three hours then puts her camera away, finding the bar and a drink. She tosses back a whiskey neat and then orders another. She sips the second and walks around the party and actually looks at people, seeing if she recognizes anyone she knows. This isn’t her usual crowd, so she doesn’t expect to find anyone, but sitting alone at something like this is an invitation to get felt up by someone twice her age and twice as drunk.

“Hey.” A hand catches her arm and she wheels around, ready to throw decent whiskey in someone’s face. Mike’s got one hand up in surrender and her reflexes are decent enough that she manages to spill just a little on the ground between them. “Nice reflexes.”

“I grew up with a band of brothers. You learn to be quick.”

He steps toward her, crowding her. “Bill didn’t let any of us touch you.”

“No. Not...not that way.” He’s still walking forward and she takes a step back. She doesn’t feel threatened, but there’s definite intent in his eyes. “But you guys pulled enough shit on me in other ways.” She’s thankful that her voice doesn’t waver at all, especially since her breath is tight in her chest.

“I sometimes wonder if he was being protective or if he was being possessive.”

She swallows hard and shakes her head. This time her voice does shake a little. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re wearing his clothes, Court. You smell like him. Are you doing it on purpose or is it because he’s fucking you?”

She stops abruptly, her back against the wall. Mike puts one hand on the wall beside her head and steps in closer, edging his leg between both of hers. “T-that would...that would be...”

“A yes or a no?”

“I...” She shudders and cants her hips, rubbing against his thigh. “M-mike.”

“You think he jerked of thinking about you, Court? Just like the rest of us in the van? You think he thought about bending you over and fucking you? Pinning you to a wall and having you writhe against his thigh until you came shuddering against him? You think I fucked him and thought about you?”

“I...” Her breath stutters in her chest and she wants him to touch her. She wants his hand between her legs. His mouth between her legs. “D-did he? D-did you?”

He catches her tie with his free hand and twists it around his palm. “Maybe I made him suck me the same way you did. On his knees in an alley, holding his wrists behind his back because he was too scared to touch.”

She whines low in her throat and her head falls back, exposing her neck. Mike leans in and his voice rumbles against her throat. “You Becketts are so fucking easy.” He tugs on the tie as he pulls back, forcing her to follow him to the back of the room, the dark alcove between the lounge and the bathrooms. He tugs her forward against his chest and then pins her to the wall again, his cock hard against her thigh. He releases the tie, his hand moving down between her breasts and to her slacks. He rubs against the fly, pressing in hard enough that she can feel him. “D’you got a dick like he does, Court? Or just the complement? A slick wet cunt that he can slide into?”

“Fuck,” she gasps. “Mike.”

“You gonna call me William if I fuck you? Pretend it’s his dick buried in your cunt? His teeth scraping over your clit? Are you going to beg me or him to let you come?”

“Either. Both. God. Please.” She’s shaking and she wants him to touch her. Wants him to bite and scratch and mark and _fuck_ her. “Please.”

He pulls away again and she whimpers, her legs loose enough that she feels like her knees are going to give way. He hooks his fingers under her waistband and pulls her up next to him then pushes her roughly into the women's bathroom. His hand is under the waistband in the back when he does it, so he jerks her up short before she slams into the counter. He pulls her back against him and thrusts his dick against her ass as he makes short work of her belt and fly, pushing her pants down over her hips and letting them fall to her ankles. He laughs roughly when he sees her briefs, pinching her ass hard before he shoves them down as well.

He puts his hand on the back of her neck and pushes her down, holding her against the counter so she can see them in the mirror. His other hand slides over her ass and then down between her legs, two fingers pushing into her wet cunt easily. She bites her lip to keep from making any noise, pushing back to get him deeper. “So fucking wet, Court.” He bites her earlobe hard and pain shoots along her nerve endings, colliding with the pleasure from the thrust of his fingers. “For me or for him? Or do you wish it was both of us? Fucking you. Filling you up. Would he fuck you or would you suck him?”

Her head drops forward and he turns his hand from her neck to fist in her hair and force her to watch. “I want you to see who’s fucking you, Courtney.”

“M-mike.” He pushes three fingers in this time and his name ends on a gasp. “G-god. F-fuck me. Please.”

He pulls his fingers out and pinches her clit before sliding his wet fingers over her ass. Her whole body shakes from want and need. It seems like forever before she feels the push of his cock sliding against her wet skin and pushing inside her. She moans hot and rough as he fills her, not pausing at all before he starts moving his hips, fucking her into the counter. She can feel the edge of it cutting into her skin and knows she’ll have bruises darkening before morning.

“So fucking wet. How can you be so wet and so tight all at once.” His voice drops and he breathes against her back, hot through the vest and her dress shirt. “Can tell he hasn’t had the big dick in you because you’re so tight. Maybe you just suck him, hm? Let him fuck your mouth like you let me? Come down your throat?”

She whimpers and shudders, tightening around him. Mike keeps moving, thrusting harder as she comes. He slides his arm around her waist and tangles his fingers in the wet hair before pushing down between her legs and finding her clit. “G-god. God, Mike. F-fuck.” Her back arches and she presses against her fingers, her thighs clenching around his hand. He pinches her in retaliation, feeling the second wave of her orgasm seconds before he comes as well.

Courtney slumps against the counter, struggling to catch her breath. Every inch of her is tingling like her nerves have been set on fire. He’s still buried inside her and she keeps clutching around him. She cries out softly when Mike eases out of her. He pushes her shirt up and plants a kiss at the base of her spine. “You could go again, couldn’t you?” His voice is a whisper now, dancing on her skin. “I could just move aside and he could fuck you, couldn’t he? You’d come at least twice more for him.”

“Mike.” She’s pleading with him, begging, and she knows it. Her knees are weak and she’s not sure she can even stand. She’s using the counter as her sole means of support. He kisses her back again and then moves away. She can hear him remove the condom and realizes that she was so far gone, she didn’t even know he’d put one on. She turns her head to see him lean against the wall, his pants on but still undone.

“You okay?”

She laughs and it sounds a bit manic to her own ears. She holds onto the counter and manages to straighten up. She turns and leans against it. There’s no way she can bend over to pull of her slacks without falling over, so she just tugs the shirt down further. Mike raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “Was that for my benefit or his?”

“I don’t do anything for your brother anymore. Not even play guitar.”

She nods and closes her eyes. “Then I don’t understand.”

“He always needed to know why.” She hears him move then feels him close to her. She opens her eyes as he bends down and gets her briefs and slacks and pulls them up, putting her back together now that he’s torn her apart. He traces a finger along her jaw and smiles, half-amused and half-predatory. “Do you have to?”  



End file.
